


Triad

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, au they live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: Hickey watches Gibson. Gibson watches Tozer. Tozer watches Hickey.





	Triad

Hickey watches Gibson. Gibson watches Tozer. Tozer watches Hickey. 

Henry finds it intriguing and says as much to John, who just shakes his head. Neither of them has been troubled by jealousy. What they have between them is as solid as a wall; if you build it carefully enough it will allow no cracks or intrusions. But their affection has been built; letter by letter, page by page, stolen touch by stolen touch. The thought of what they will do when they get back to land makes Henry practically giddy with arousal. This, too, he says to John and John stares back with such a hunger that Henry finds himself hard. There’s no time for that here; nor space nor privacy. Rescue has them crammed in together like sardines. 

Whatever is between the other three men is not unlike pack ice; it roars and screeches and cracks. Unpredictable. Dangerous. If you didn’t know how to read it you’d think it tranquil.

*

“He’s like my brother -” Cornelius looks at Billy slyly from under his lashes. “Nothing to trouble my conscience.”  
“You don’t have one.”  
Cornelius rolls his eyes.   
“Not this again.”  
He turns his back and strides away, or tries to. They are all crammed together and he nearly trips over another man. Billy would laugh, except Cornelius hates that. Hates humiliation. Billy, despite his better sense, doesn’t want more quarrelling. He wants them to be as they were, before; in hold, Cornelius’s breath hot on his neck, both of them stifling their gasps. All the more precious because it was secret.

That it ended was not his fault. But that it cannot be fixed is his fault, his entirely. Cornelius can be so sweet when he wants to be. Billy remembers his kisses and his adoration and how handsome Cornelius made him feel. That what they did together was desirable and not shameful. What had started as a hurried hand in the dark become something of a light in him. He’d see Cornelius’s face even in the Arctic night, shining like a candle. 

But he had to extinguish it, had to drive Cornelius away otherwise they would be back together within days and certainly be caught and called out. So he had been cruel. Made it seem like it was less than it was even when it was everything. And Cornelius, thinking him without guile - my sweet, kind Billy, he’d often said - had taken what he’d said at face value.

It takes a special kind of man to forgive another who’s shat on his bed but Billy could see what it for what it was; proof that Cornelius had been affected more than he’d let on. A foul act to provoke Billy into more conflict. Billy, knowing Cornelius much better than Cornelius knew, ignored it, and everyone laughed at Neptune, and Billy’s misfortune. Everyone laughed.

Cornelius would not forgive him that.  
Sergeant Tozer laughed along with everyone else. But now he seems to be on terms with Cornelius; his eyes search for their mutual friend every time he enters a room. Others, not so well versed in how these matters are conducted, would not notice this. But Billy does. And it makes him sick with jealousy. Because he has seen them together, Tozer and Cornelius, laughing over some joke. Whereas before Tozer had shown nothing but contempt.

Cornelius had fallen on their trip towards rescue; others had laughed. Feeling Irving’s eyes on him he had not rushed forward; instead, instead it was Tozer, who had lifted Cornelius easily, as if he was a bride, and gone off to the medical tent. 

Tozer is thick and strong; no wasted muscle, no frostbitten skin. Cornelius, with his demands to always be the one doing, rather being done to, would surely not submit. But it seemed to be that way, it seemed to Billy that he would. Back in the beginning Cornelius explained that he never went on his knees anymore; that reminded him of the times he had to, either by force or out of necessity. That he disliked the act. It was both of them taking their pleasure at the same time or nothing at all, and Cornelius had been so careful with Billy’s pleasure and more often than not Billy had reached his peak first. 

Now, when he can, Billy goes down to the hold. He expects to find Cornelius and Tozer there; Tozer’s head thrown back as Cornelius services him. His hand stroking Cornelius’s hair. Cornelius’s hand in his trousers, pleasuring himself because he drew pleasure from the act. All his protestations to Billy forgotten because Tozer was his man now. Tozer was stronger than Billy. More steadfast. If he were called out he’d probably laugh and exclaim that he didn’t mind because the fucking was that good.

After Cornelius had been lashed, he’s sidled up to Billy and thanked him for the tobacco. Billy had ignored him, because it was how he’d deal with Cornelius in those days. And also because he had done no such thing. And then he’d overheard Tozer asking for more tobacco, since he was almost out. Something dark and foul had awoken inside him. Even if they weren’t together, Cornelius was still his. Tozer must be made to understand that. 

*

Solomon had touched Hickey just the once; his own rough palm smoothing back Hickey’s hair when the smaller man had fallen and cracked his head on a rock. He remembers how soft that hair was; the weight of him in his arms as he took him to the medical tent. Hickey had lain there, stunned and quiet for once. He’d smiled weakly - a proper smile, unlike his taunting grin - and offered to repay Solomon at some point.

There were whispers about Hickey’s inclinations. Solomon’s not seen a woman in two years - bar Lady Silence - so perhaps that’s where the strange fancies about what Hickey will do to thank him will take. Mouth, hand, even arse - yes, Solomon longs for that, longs to be inside someone again. He loves the act of coupling, of being as close to someone as it was possible to be. 

His own marines number two and both of them are too sick to attend their duties. There is another Sergeant on this ship and they are uneasy with each other; Solomon knows he is an invader into another’s territory. They circle each other like wary dogs, waiting for the other to snarl first.

Hickey, by contrast, is easy company. He demands nothing; laughs at Solomon’s jokes and listens to his complaints. If Solomon is a dog, then Hickey is distinctly cat-like. There are times he thinks Hickey will climb into his lap and start purring, nuzzling his neck and biting at his ears. That would be good, too; the two of them rutting together like animals. But the next moment, Hickey will not look at him, barely acknowledge him. Usually when Gibson is in the room.

What is it about Gibson that Hickey finds so fascinating. They were probably together once but Gibson was always so querulous. Always making remarks. And he is thin and spindly and ridiculous; there’s something about stewards, snobbish and proud, that sets his teeth on edge. Gibson is not worthy of Hickey. Gibson is not worthy competition. Yet when he sees Hickey watching Gibson he wants to stride over to the other man and knock his skinny head against the wall. 

But then Hickey will be back, attending on him, as if he were Solomon’s own steward. That he returns is sign enough of Hickey’s favour. In the dark of the night, when the creaking of the hammocks and the noise of the sea can disguise it, he takes himself in hand and imagines Hickey’s touch. Hickey’s mouth on his. Hickey’s hand pressed against his pounding heart.

*

Cornelius seeks out Harry Peglar’s company. They are not quite friends but they are certainly brothers in inclination. Perhaps he may shed some light on his own situation. Someone to talk to. Otherwise it’s Solomon’s aching desire or Billy’s seething jealousy, both of which are driving him mad. 

“You are running rings around them both,” Harry says. “I don’t know what you expect.”

Peglar’s only ever had eyes for his burly steward. Cornelius fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

“It’s them,” he insists, “They’ve tied themselves into knots. It’s never occurred to either of them that I might not want -”

Peglar snorts. 

“You certainly watch Gibson enough. When he’s in the room you barely take your eyes off him. And Tozer sees that -”

“Only because I’m worried Billy’s going to scurry off to command,” Cornelius says. It’s almost completely true. “Again.”

Peglar raises his eyebrows. 

“You’re lucky. Your _friend_ wouldn’t sell you out to save his own skin.”

“That’s because my _friend_ and I won’t be doing anything before we get back on shore.” Peglar says, as primly as any matron.

“I know what I’m doing when I get back to dry land,” Cornelius says. 

“Pick one?”

The watch changes. He and Peglar separate; Peglar no doubt to make cow eyes at Mr. Bridgens - they are not as subtle as they think they are - and Cornelius to the sickbay, to make himself useful and to have an excuse to keep away from the other men. Goodsir has taken against him but he’ll take disdain over Billy’s fractiousness and Tozer’s leering any day. 

Of course he’ll run. It’s what he’s best at. He’ll run and run and hide away, find some forgotten doghole to hunker down in until he’s clear, and then he’ll run some more. He loved Billy once. He could see himself loving Solomon. But love has revealed itself to be a liability. He must think of his practicals. His practicals will always come first.

**Author's Note:**

> I am really bad at writing fix it fic.


End file.
